A Home with Fearless Color

At home in Miami, prolific designer Doug Meyer gives in to his passions for the reclaimed, quirky, singular and highly chromatic.

If Doug Meyer had an aura, it would certainly not be neutral. He would be surrounded by the blues, greens and turquoises he so favors, and the colors would shimmer in an ever-moving energy field. The Miami-based designer of rugs, outdoor furniture, fabric, tile and interiors—who is also a sculptor, a painter and an installation artist (whew!)—does not often come to a full rest, even at home. "I love to have things to look at," he says. "I need to be continually stimulated."

Meyer is the younger sibling in the two-brother partnership of Doug and Gene Meyer. Both separately and together they are a force. It should, however, be said that the energy they exude is not frenetic but an abundance of exuberant, overflowing creativity present in both practically since birth.

Photo: Mark Roskams

As youngsters, in Louisville, Kentucky, the brothers constantly created tableaux for their parents, rearranging tabletop displays and even fashioning miniature cities. Gene, who is older, was the first to head off to Parsons, where he studied fashion design, to be followed by Doug, who studied fine art. The two have always been close (though six years apart, they often seem like fraternal twins who speak a secret language and complete each other's thoughts). But it is only in the past few years that they have begun collaborating, first on NIBA rugs in their chosen home of Miami and now on two new endeavors—outdoor furniture and fabric for Link and tile for the Wa-Kei Group, all of which will debut later this year.

Doug Meyer's house sits in the near-in suburb of Miami Shores. "It's not a grand house, and it's not a modernist house," he says. In fact, it is a simple 1941 block-and-stucco with a single true-toperiod art deco focal point, the carved-stone living room fireplace.

"It was the only house like it," Meyer says. "For one thing, it sits on a corner, which gives the lot more privacy as well as more land." The house was in a "strange state," Meyer reports, but it had its good points. What really appealed to him were the terrific dual-tone, poured-terrazzo floors with brass inlays. In some of the rooms the floors were green and white, in others, pink and white. He also liked the cracked-tile mosaic on the front porch. And a round dining room beckoned, along with a backyard big enough to hold a pool. Of course, the yard was entirely occupied by a huge mango tree that not only rained down fruit and provided room and board to a variety of local fruit-eating critters: It also blocked out the sun.

Committing to the home, Meyer began the renovation. "I had to take down a few walls," he says, "and add or seal up various areas. The living room had a hideous little knickknack shelf, with spaces so small that you couldn't even put a book on them." There were more shelves lining the dining room walls. Out went the shelves. He also removed a pass-through between the kitchen and the living room because it was, he declares, "a horrid thing."

New walls were the next order of business. Meyer chose a zebrawood veneer for most but opted to cover one living room wall with a ball-chain curtain wall in a silver-hued metal that has a shimmery glow. "I always love spaces at night, and this glistens," says Meyer. "And when the air-conditioning is on, the beads move slightly. It's almost kinetic."

"For years and years I've tried to do a white room," says Meyer. "So I do, and I think, 'Oh, this is nice,' and then within three or four days, I start bringing things in and before you know it, it's not a white room at all."

In the master bedroom, two walls are concealed by floor-toceiling curtains ("They envelop the room with a flood of turquoise," says Meyer). Add an oversize, padded headboard of "kitschy and unexpected" glittery blue vinyl (think diner banquettes), a purple bedspread, ocean-blue pillows and a marine-toned geometric rug, and "it can feel as though you're walking into a fish tank," allows the designer, who revels in his preference for visual stimulation.

Meyer's work can be muted and subdued, but more often it is a riot of color, at once sophisticated and witty, with subtle and unexpected twists. "Really, I don't want to be so serious," he will say as a prelude to what is a philosophical gesture, albeit one imbued with a certain sly humor—for example, having a shop paint his Wendell Castle patio chairs a bright pinky purple. "Why should they always be either white or orange?" he asks, the colors in which the chairs were designed and manufactured.

In the same vein, he also overstuffed the living room's Florence Knoll sofa and upholstered it in a heavy cotton from Brunschwig & Fils that's a bright Kelly green. And most of the chairs in the house are painted in deeply saturated tones. "I love to take classics and manipulate them to make them my own," he says.

A Part of Hearst Digital Media
ELLE Decor participates in various affiliate marketing programs, which means we may get paid commissions on editorially chosen products purchased through our links to retailer sites.